


Counterfeit

by Phoenixflame3009



Series: Counterfeit [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Merry Smutmas!, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostitution, deception?, radiodust - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixflame3009/pseuds/Phoenixflame3009
Summary: It’s clear to anyone Alastor isn’t interested in anything Angel Dust has to offer. Luckily, Angel has ways of coping.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Counterfeit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680391
Comments: 31
Kudos: 586





	Counterfeit

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing smut in a while so I apologize if it isn’t great. But practice makes perfect! Feel free to let me know what you think below and thank you for reading.
> 
> Many thanks to the talented alaswoeisme and my husband, Bishop_Wolf1999 for proofreading!

Angel pinned his reflection with a scrutinizing eye, searching for even the smallest imperfection. He was certain he hadn’t overlooked a single trick. Bubblegum eyeshadow, check. Eyeliner, check. Enough fruity perfume to kill a man, check. Satisfied, Angel Dust slouched back, silently admiring every ounce of natural beauty in the chipped vanity mirror. He was ready.

Angel’s heels thumped dully against the carpeted floor. He crouched down beside Nuggets, patting the snoring swine’s head lovingly.

“Daddy’s going out for a lil’ bit. Be a good boy until he gets back,” Angel said, to which his only response was a tired snort. The spider demon sported a rare, genuine smile and kissed Nuggets on the nose before climbing back to his feet.

One set of arms snatched a particularly fetching pink purse off his nightstand while another adjusted his fluffy bust. Angel carded a fuchsia gloved hand through his hair for what surely felt like the hundredth time and carefully slipped out into the hall.

It was blissfully empty, as it should be at two in the morning. Angel crept carefully down the long stretch, his senses hyper tuned to every creak and moan and groan of the old wooden floor. The last thing he needed was Vaggie, Alastor, or worse yet, Charlie finding out what he was up to.

At the reception desk, Husk was well and thoroughly smashed. His slumped body rose and fell with each measured breath, a bottle of cheap booze clutched in his meaty fist. Angel sauntered on by without a care in the world. The only movement he noticed was Husker’s ear twitching, but the drunkard demon didn’t so much as stir. Not even when Angel stepped out through the front door.

Angel couldn’t hold back a victorious grin, his eyes positively glowing when he spotted the thriving, sinful city, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Or in his case, a spider demon to PCP.

He escaped into the night, unaware of the luminescent eyes watching him closely through a pool of darkness. Or the hiss of static to follow.  
  


* * *

  
The Glory Hole wasn’t the most renowned brothel in all of Hell. If anything, it was more a drop in the bucket of sex dens: it was exceptionally exceptional. Angel remembered having been offered a prime position as their top bitch years ago, before Valentino offered him something better. Looking back on it now, Angel was so happy to have declined.

Vomit, sweat, and sex assaulted the spider demon’s heightened senses on all sides. He gingerly kicked aside a passed out patron, then not-so-gently stepped across his body over a puddle of vomit, cracking bones and agonized screams falling on deaf ears. No way in Heaven was he dirtying up his favorite boots.

Normally, Angel wouldn’t dare show his face in such a sleazy place... unless he was paid enough, of course. But the Glory Hole had something no other brothel had. Something Angel wanted.

Angel bypassed countless thirsty demons, many shamelessly begging for the chance to fuck or be fucked by the illustrious Angel Dust. Sugar pink eyes swerved from left to right, a sneer of disgust marring Angel’s delicate features. He could have sworn he saw him here…

As he turned another corner, Angel froze, eyes wide and so very lustful.

He wasn’t a flawless copy - his hair was slightly longer and he was missing the ever so crucial antlers - but beggars can’t be choosers, and at this point, the only thing Angel was begging for was a good fuck.

Wordlessly, he beckoned the imposter Alastor to follow and wandered off to the nearest room.  
  


* * *

  
The room was dark, save for the dying golden glow of a lamp old enough to be Angel’s great grandmother. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture; a queen size mattress that looked like it hadn’t seen soap or bleach in a good century, a single nightstand propped up by a book, a shelf stocked from one end to the other in dildos, vibrators, and flavored lube. 

Angel quickly stashed a particularly thick red vibrator and bottle of strawberry lube into his purse before tossing it off to the side. He took a seat at the foot of the bed, awaiting the Alastor-looking whore to step through the door and wreck his ass six ways to Sunday.

_It’ll never be real._

Angel let the troublesome thought roll off his back like water. So what? He already knew it would never be real. He already knew Alastor would never fuck someone like him, a lowdown dirty whore. Really, if he were to fuck anyone, it would most definitely be Charlie, or even Vaggie. But still, Angel could dream. Or for a few short seconds, he could pretend.

The door swung open passionately. Angel gazed up, coming eye-to-eye with a very close look alike of the infamous Radio Demon. Funny. He looked even more like Alastor in this light. 

“Hello, my dear fellow! I understand you’re in need of my services this evening. Whatever can I do for you?”

A white hot spear pierced Angel’s chest. Fucking Christ, he even _sounded_ like Alastor, static and all.

“Shut up! I ain’t payin’ ya to talk,” The spider demon hissed. To his relief, the living mimicry didn’t utter a word in protest. “Better. Now, listen up: I don’t want none of that sticky sweet sentimental bullshit. I want it rough. I’m talking hair pulling, biting, raw dogging—the whole nine circles. Do that and we both leave happy. Got it?”

No response. Only a smile. That damn, bone-numbing smile.

Perfect.

Angel smirked deviously, running a finger through the valley of his bust, watching those glowing red eyes follow his every move with ravenous hunger. “I’m all yours, babe. Ta-“

Before Angel could finish, a searing pair of lips covered his own, effectively smashing any lingering confidence and control the spider demon had in seconds. Angel moaned wantonly as a slippery, tentacle-like tongue passed parted lips with zero resistance, slipping and sliding against Angel’s own tongue like two horny cobras. Angel daringly pushed against fake-Alastor’s tongue and was immediately rewarded with a harsh bite, tearing a pathetic-sounding whine from deep inside the pornstar.

Clawed hands gripped Angel’s shoulders, quickly trailing down to his voluptuous bust. Each hand groped and kneaded a fluffy mound. A single claw discovered the swollen red bud hiding underneath and out of sheer curiosity, gave it a swift flick.

The effect was instantaneous: Angel arched off the bed with a shout, his hands grappling at everything and anything. One fisted the stained sheets, another anchored itself onto fake-Alastor’s back, and the remaining two twisted themselves in his silky, bicolored hair. He could have sworn his finger grazed something hard and solid. It felt like...bone?

Angel wasn’t given long to process his discovery. With that same grin, fake-Alastor flipped Angel over so fast the spider’s head spun. He barely processed his own skirt being torn down until he felt his erect cock smack against his stomach. One set of arms propped Angel up on all fours, the other reached down to stroke his neglected erection.

Behind him, a sharp hiss of static sliced the aroused atmosphere.

Without a word of warning, Angel felt his hand be smacked away none-too-kindly and was subsequently pushed flat onto his stomach, his ass still hanging in the air. Those clawed fingers returned with a vengeance, fondling Angel’s delicious asscheeks. A sigh passed Angel’s lips.

“ _Al_ , baby~.... _mmm~_ ” Angel moaned, rocking his hips back to try and drive home the point he was ready. He was genuinely surprised. This felt so... real. So authentic. He might have to try this again sometime.

All rational thought abandoned Angel as a hard, throbbing cock rubbed against his aching hole, almost but not quite sliding inside like he wanted. Angel whined and writhed as much as the hold allowed, shaking his ass in an ‘I’ll die if you don’t fuck me’ gesture. A harsh, blistering smack resonated in his right asscheek. Angel released a high pitched scream that quickly turned into a low, drawn-out moan when that cock of dreams breached his quivering hole, exactly as Angel imagined it would.

Fake-Alastor thrusted once, then twice, more experimental than cautious and Angel could already feel his own cock throbbing dangerously. He always imagined it would feel fucking amazing but holy fucktits, reality beats imagination any day. 

Angel bit down on the cheap, mildew-stained pillow as that glorious cock was driven in and out, in and out. A relentless cycle that left Angel Dust blissfully lightheaded. Each thrust nailed his prostate dead-on, spiking the spider’s arousal higher than heaven itself. Fuck, this _was_ heaven! Angel rode on the razor’s edge of pleasure, purposefully edging himself if only to make the moment last a little bit longer.

He hadn’t accounted for a scarlet-nailed hand reaching down, gently caressing Angel’s weeping cock like some fragile thing. Angel flopped his head down to watch as those needle-like nails tailed over each violently throbbing vein. He stopped over the head, and knowing Angel was watching him, pressed his nails ever so slightly into the tender skin of the head.

Angel exploded with a hell-shattering shriek. Fat streaks of cum stained the filthy bedspread, his chest, and of course the fake-Alastor’s hand. Angel’s legs wobbled and bobbed, then sank down into the sweat soaked mattress, bringing down the counterfeit Radio Demon with him. The spider demon gasped as he felt fake-Alastor pull out of him.

True to his word, the fake-Alastor remained obediently silent. He didn’t break character even in the aftermath. That certainly deserved a tip.

“Alright, babe. A deal’s a deal,” Angel purred, only slightly out of breath. He reached into his sweaty, cum-stained bust and snaked a wad of crumpled, damp bills. He turned over to hand it to the fake, but… he was already gone.  
  


* * *

  
Angel Dust slunk back to the Happy Hotel like a filthy rat would retreat to its hovel. To his immense and unending luck, Husk still hadn’t woken from his drunken stupor. He hadn’t moved much except to hug the bottle of booze against his chest like a precious doll. Angel might’ve stayed to laugh and potentially blackmail the hardheaded bartender into a blowjob, but honestly, he didn’t feel like it. He was already satisfied. Besides, Charlie would be up soon to make her morning rounds and prepare breakfast for everyone. Best she not discover where exactly the pornstar spent his night.

As the spider demon approached his room and rifled around in his bag for his room key, a familiar hiss of static breached his ears. Angel whipped around and came face to face with a familiar demon.

“Good morning, my dear Angel! What a surprise it is to see you up and about so early, even before Charlie. Might I ask where you’ve been?” Alastor prodded. It seemed innocent enough but Angel wasn’t anybody’s fool. 

He knew damn well if he spilled the beans, there wasn’t any guarantee Alastor wouldn’t pass it along to Charlie. He might not believe in the princess’s cause but he wasn’t here to help Angel, either.

“None of your damn business, that’s where,” Angel retorted smoothly, running a hand through his hair. “But I might squeal if you push the right buttons, _daddy~_ ” Angel purred, delighting in the subtle twitch of the Radio Demon’s shoulders. 

“Hahaha! You’re such a character, Angel. Truly,” Laughed the Radio Demon. “So long as you follow dear Charlie’s rehabilitation schedule, I see no reason to worry. Carry on,” Alastor said before taking his leave, humming a ditty to himself.

Angel released a silent breath. Thank fuck. He turned back to continue the never ending struggle that was finding his damn room key when suddenly, Alastor reappeared at his side, sending Angel jumping back against the door.

“So sorry to interrupt, but I nearly forgot. I believe these are yours?” 

Angel’s eyes went impossibly wide. There, hanging carelessly off one of Alastor’s claws, were Angel’s panties. The same ones he wore to the Glory Hole…

Alastor dropped them into Angel’s empty, trembling hands. “Do be more mindful where you leave your belongings in the future, dear fellow.” Alastor said, grinning like a diabetes-riddled child in a candy shop before once again taking his leave.

Angel sunk helplessly to the floor, staring uncomprehendingly at his own panties as if they betrayed him. Where did Al even find these? What... what did this mean? Had he known all along where Angel went and simply retrieved these for him? No, that didn’t make any sense. A demon like Alastor would sooner repent for his crimes than set foot in a place as deplorable as the Glory Hole. 

A revelation crashed into Angel as violently as an eighteen-wheeler. He swallowed thickly, gripping the soft fabric like a lifeline.

Was... was that really a look-alike who fucked him, or…. or was it _really_ …

Angel vehemently shook his head. No. There is no way in any of the nine circles that Alastor, the Radio Demon, fucked a lowly whore like Angel Dust. It just wasn’t possible!

...Right?


End file.
